The Fall, the Rise, and Fall of Kyle Broflowski
by yaoivampire
Summary: the whole title is The Fall, the Rise, and Fall of Kyle Broflowski, as Told by Eric Cartman, but it didn't fit. A KylexCartman Cartman is in character. What if Kyle wasn't cheered by Mel's insanity? What if the only one who understands is Eric T. Cartman?
1. Chapter 1

-1**The Fall, the Rise, and Fall of Kyle Broflowski, as Told by Eric Cartman**

Cartman's strange ass accent translation:

Kahl - Kyle

Kenneh - Kenny

Meemm! - Calling for his mother

Hyah - Here (sometimes)

Nyehr- There (sometimes)

Towahl - Towel

Anyways, I decided to make them Highschool age because it's easier and I won't be in danger of violating pedophile laws. Cartman _is _in character, because I'm sick of Cartman x Kyle fiction with a skinny ass, fluffy (New Curse Word), happy-go-lucky, non-racist Cartman. However, I'm sick of Kyle x Cartman where Cartman rapes Kyle. You can write an in-character, evil, fat-ass Cartman without rape.

I thought Kyle looked absolutely satisfying when he was depressed. Not that anything about the Jew _himself_ was appealing, but the sadness, Kyle's sadness, was wonderful. That, and the fact that I, Eric T. Cartman, had caused it. It was an expression I had practically waited my whole life to see, and been my life's goal to cause. I decided that this moment was too great not to relish, so I invited him inside, to "comfort" him. Not knowing that this decision would turn out to be the biggest mistake, the best choice, and the largest turn of events in Eric T. Cartman's life.

Rewind a few hours ago, before the literal _and_ figurative storm began. Stan, Kenny, Kyle and I were playing Star Wars with my mom's new mini-van. Okay, I know, a bit childish for Highschoolers, right? Well screw you, nobody asked you. Anyways, Kyle and I began to fight about the Passion of the Christ (again) and he finally gave in and went to see it. Fast-forward to present time, where the deliciously depressed Kyle Broflowski, the Super-Annoying-Jew-Rat, is dripping rainwater all over my floor. Disgusted, I find him a towel he can dry himself off with (purposely ignoring the one that offers me a joint). He dried that ridiculous, red, Jew-fro of his as he mumbled a thank you. "Whatever, I just don't want you getting my floors wet, bastard." I said. Kyle glares at me, but otherwise says nothing. "Now," I said, "I can make tea, or something. Mom says that stuff is supposed to make everything better." I add sickly-sweet smile at the end of my statement. I know he doesn't trust me, but he obediently follows me into the kitchen anyways. How wonderful this was! Kyle was in such a weakened state, he could probably cry any moment. God, how I wished he would cry. "Chamomile or Lemon?" I asked cheerfully. He grunted and sat at my table. I shrugged, putting on Chamomile. I always did like the taste of Chamomile. I sat across from him, grinning. He didn't notice, he was too busy staring at the floor .

When it was ready, I poured the tea into two separate mugs. "Two cubes or one?" I asked with fake innocence. He stood up angrily, chair scraping harshly on the floor. "God damn it Cartman! This is serious!" He yelled, slamming his hands down on the table. I jumped, but did my best to compose myself. "Well excuse me for not being the epitome of sympathy, but you did kill my Lord and Savior, Jewboy." Kyle slumped back into his chair. Shrugging, I dropped two cubes into both of our cups. I sat back down and slid his tea across the table. He took a sip, only to wrinkle his nose in disgust, "Ugh, it's too sweet."

"Well, you should have told me you wanted one cube, instead of exploding at me." No response. I frowned slightly; I was getting tired of his silence. And what the hell? Wasn't he supposed to be crying? "It was so… violent." He said in a quiet voice. Ah, here it was, the grief. He stood up suddenly, "I have to go." He said. And it was gone as soon as it came. Damn. I followed him towards the door, "You know Kahl, it doesn't have to be this way." He paused, door hanging open, foot out the door, but he did not turn around. "I could help you, Kahl. There are things that you can do to fix this." He walked out into the storm, making no indication that he had heard me, but I know that he had. I closed the door behind him. _The seed of corruption has been planted. _I thought, chuckling, then paused, "Damn bastard. Stole my towahl." Not like I cared, I would have just burned it anyways. Humming to myself, I returned to the kitchen and dumped Kyle's unfinished tea down the sink. Then, after a moment's consideration, I threw the mug away. Still humming, I went to my bedroom. I had plans to make if I was going to lead the second Holocaust.

I stepped out of the shower, finished washing myself clean from a certain person's excrements. I looked into the fogged up mirror, my reflection stared back at me. "GOD DAMN IT!" I yelled, smashing my fist into the mirror. "Ouch!" I yelped. Instead of breaking the mirror, like I had expected, I simply succeeded in hurting my hand. "Shit, that works out so much cooler in the movies." I grumbled. I dressed myself and headed for the snack cupboard. I had a date tonight with the lovely and energetic Ms. Television and for that I needed Cheesy Poofs. As one could probably tell, I have failed in my brilliant plan to finish Hitler's work by now and I planned to drown my sorrows in Terrance and Phillip re-runs and a good twenty-two medium sized bags of flour, water, and processed, powdered cheese. I would not have such sorrows to drown if it hadn't been for a certain queermo and a certain poor boy. "Damn you, Stan and Kenneh. I hate you guys." Just as I was sitting down, the telephone rang. "Meemm! Telephone!" I called. "Mommy's busy poopsykins, can you get it?"

"God, I gotta do everything myself around here." I grouched; it was true… sort of. "What?" I growled into the speaker. It was a sign of how upset she was, that the bitch of a woman on the other end didn't tell me off for being rude. "My bubalah, I can't find my bubalah!" Mrs. Broflowski bitched at me through the receiver (no matter how she sounded, no matter what she said, Mrs. Broflowski will always be bitching in my mind.) I sighed at Sheila's babble. I was in no mood to translate God damn _Hebrew, _for Christ's sake. "_What _is a boobuhla?" I asked, butchering the pronunciation partly on purpose. Was Mrs. Broflowski seriously crying at me over some sort of lost _bra, _or something? "It's Kyle! I can't find him anywhere!"

"Have you checked Stan's house yet?" I asked, monotone. "Y-yes!" She bitch- I mean blubbered. "Then if his little fag partner hasn't seen him, what makes you think Kyle would want to see a person, who, not two hours ago, tried to eradicate his people?" She made a strangled, indignant, upset cry and the phone line went dead. "I swear to Jesus," I said, flipping on the television, "Sheila Broflowski is the only person in the world who can make a single noise sound bitchy."


	2. Chapter 2

-1Oh and if you haven't guessed by now, any racist views expressed by the characters (namely Cartman) are not the views of the author (who, by the way, is not Cartman)

I hadn't even gotten through my seventh bag of Cheesy Poofs before someone knocked on the door. Groaning, I tossed the bag off to the side and answered it. I was surprised to see a certain missing Broflowski staring pointedly at me. "You know," I said, "Your mother is looking for you." He walked inside the house, brushing past me. I closed the door and Kyle swung around glaring at me. "Well, Cartman?!"

"Well what?" Kyle's eyes shot daggers at me, "You almost got me to believe that I was evil, that my entire people were evil, just because of some psycho's movie!" I smirked, was I _actually _hearing this? "Yeah, Mel Gibson turned out to be a crazy asshole, so what? That doesn't mean his movie was historically inaccurate. Ask any historian Kahl, they'll tell you the same thing, the Jews killed Jesus."

"That isn't true fatass!"

"Look it up, Kahl. The whole world isn't Anti-Semitic, Kahl. The authors of the history books and the historians have no reason to lie. Maybe the Jews didn't directly kill Jesus, but they _were_ responsible." He faltered, causing me to smirk. I started to usher him out of my house, "Go on Kahl, go back home to your bitch mother. Go home and look it up. Oh, and Kahl?"

"What?"

"I'm not fat, I'm big-boned." I said, and shut the door when he stepped outside. "God damned Jew, if he calls me fat one more time, I swear to God…" I let my threat hang.

The next day was a Monday (ugh), and I went to wait for the bus. Kenny was the only one there. I was used to Stan being late, but usually the Jew was here by now. "Where's Kahl?" Kenny shrugged, "I don't know, maybe he slept in." Eh, like I even cared. "Man, Mondays are the worst." I said, a statement to which Kenny eagerly agreed to. Stan came running up, panting from running so fast. "Oh good… the bus isn't here yet." He said. "Dude, where's Kyle?" Kenny asked. "He called me last night, said he wasn't coming in. Didn't say why though." He answered as the bus pulled up. They clambered on reluctantly. "Did he sound sick?" Kenny asked. Stan just shrugged. "Well _I _for one couldn't give half a rat's ass. Half a Jew-Rat's ass." I chuckled at my joke, the others didn't even crack a smile. Those two, I swear, they have the worst sense of humor ever.

"BRIING!" The phone screamed at me. "Jesus." I said, rubbing the sleep from eyes so I could see the clock. "Arg! Who the _hell _is calling me at three A.M.?" I picked up the phone, "You know what time it is asshole?!"

"Stan?" I blinked in surprise, "Kahl, what the fuck? This is Cartman, Jew-Rat."

"Dang it all!" He said, and hung up, "The hell?" I said, before shrugging it off and going back to sleep.

I yawned, stretching out my arms to inconspicuously whack Kenny over the head. He punched my arm in retaliation, "Ow! Kenneh that hurt! That's a bad Kenneh!" He just laughed… bastard. "Man, Tuesdays are the worst." I said. Kenny sighed, "That is what you said yesterday, about Mondays." He said. "Yes, Kenneh, and that is what I will say tomorrow, about Wednesdays. And the next day, about Thursdays. But not the next day, because Fridays are cool."

"Whatever dude. Hey, you know what's weird? Kyle called me around three A.M. this morning looking for Stan. What's up with that?"

"I know, me too. Since when does he forget his faggy friend's number?" Kenny shrugged, "Do you know if he's making it to school today?"

"I don't know. I don't keep tabs on the damned Jew." Kenny rolled his eyes. Stan came running up to the bus stop. "Dude, why are you always so late?" Kenny asked, "Huh, what?" Stan said, trying in vain to stifle a yawn. "Guess that answers that question." I said dully. "Hey, your boyfriend call you last night?" Stan scratched his stomach lazily, he was so used to my age-old quip that he hardly missed a beat before answering: "No, why?"

"So, he called Kenny and I, but not you, the guy he was actually trying to reach? How does that make sense?"

"What? He called you guys last night trying to reach me? Strange." Stan said. The bus pulled up, "Guess Kahl isn't coming." I said, boarding the bus. "I'm kind of concerned about him." Stan said. "Yeah, that's a shocker, you concerned about your boyfriend? Gasp!" Stan rolled his eyes. "I worried about him too, though." Kenny said. Oh great, here we go. "Well, _I'm_ not. Personally, I don't give a crap _what _he gets himself into." I said, contemptuous. "Well, duh, since when have you cared about anything other than yourself?"

"Shut up, Clyde! We're not talking to you!" I said, as Kenny snickered. I swear to God kid'll laugh at anything. He must, if he can laugh at those accursed Rob Snyder movies. "Do you think he's sick?" Asked Stan. "Makes sense, why else would he have been so disoriented last night?"

"Yeah, and why else would that bitch let him stay home?" I said. "I don't really think Mrs. Broflowski is that much of a bitch, she's just concerned."

"Clyde, you don't even know what we're talking about!" I yelled at him. The idiot always does this. He's so desperate, God. "I think we should call him." Kenny said. "I think we should go over to his house." Stan suggested. "I think we shouldn't care." I growled. "Well, I think we should give him some air."

"…GOD DAMN IT!"

"Ah, another day without the Jew, I could get used to this." I said, plopping down on the couch, only to have to get back up again when the phone rang, "I swear to God that phone is hooked to a trigger in the couch." I answered the phone, "What?"

"What did you do to my bubalah?!" Yikes, bitchzilla is on overdrive tonight. "I didn't do anything." I growled. "He's depressed! He hardly eats! He won't sleep!"

"And you think I have something to do with this, _why_?"

"It's always your fault! No matter what's wrong with Kyle, it's always has something to do with you!"

"Thank you for your comments andor complaint, I'll be happy to patch you through to your dial tone now, if you would just wait a few seconds."

"NO!"

"Whoa-ho. Calm down." Crazy bitch, blew out my eardrums. "I WILL NOT CALM DOWN! AND YOU WILL NOT HANG UP! NOT UNTIL YOU TELL ME WHAT YOU DID!" I would have hung up right then and there if I wasn't so shocked. Another voice appeared in the background, Kyle's, but I couldn't tell what he was saying, "But Kyle," Mrs. Broflowski (who will now officially be forever be referred to as Extremely Loud Bitch, in my mind) argued. "What?" I asked, and the line went dead.


	3. Chapter 3

-1Here comes Kyle angst-fest. Watch as Cartman gets exceedingly more pissed off about it! Remember kids, an angst-filled Kyle is near impossible to argue with. And we all know how much Cartman loves that!

"Wednesdays are the worst." I said, just to piss Kenny off. "Just shut up, man." Mission accomplished. I heard footsteps dragging their way toward us. "So, Kahl, finally decided to drag your-" I stopped, taking in Kyle's appearance. "Dude! You look awful." Kenny said. "I'm fine." Came the weak response. I could hold it in no longer… I burst out laughing, "You… you look like… Tweek on a coffee deprivation!" And he did, with those bags under his eyes, weirdly buttoned shirt, and apparent inability to bear the weight of his own skinny ass. Kyle glared at me. "Where's Stan?"

"He's always late." Kenny said. A minute later a snow-covered Stan came jogging up. "What happened to you?"

"Fell. What happened to you?"

"Nothing, I'm fine." Liar, what about last night's little call, hm? There's _obviously _something wrong with _you_. "Okay, we were just getting worried about you, or at least Kenny and I were."

"Just a cold." Screw that, you're not sick. "Oh, okay." Super-Awesome-Best-Friends my ass. Even _I _can tell he's lying. Whatever, I don't think I really care, anyways, I thought, boarding the bus that just pulled up.

School was rather amusing with Kyle's random screw-ups. He had forgotten when and where his classes were, so he had to follow Stan around like a lost puppy for the first four periods. Then Kyle had to borrow some of Stan's money for lunch, because he forgot his own, (I suggested he use his Jew Gold, but all I got for my helpfulness was an elbow in the ribs) and when he paid for lunch, he left it up at the counter. He didn't bother to go back up and get it. But the amusement stopped at the last two periods, the ones I had with him. At first, it was still funny: Stan had different English and World History classes, so Kyle had to follow me instead. Just to piss him off, I threw an arm around his shoulders. "What do you think you're doing?" He snarled. I smirked, "I wouldn't want my little Jew pup getting lost, now would I?" He glared at me, and I allowed him to shrug my arm off. We entered Mrs. Bradford's class. Mrs. Bradford was pretty cool. She encouraged class discussion about our current core novels and short stories. And since she abhorred any sort of banning of the English language, she allowed us to cuss while we did it. Normally Kyle and I squabbled back and forth in these discussions, but it was _intelligent _squabbling, so Mrs. Bradford allowed it. Mine and Kyle's seats were the farthest they could possibly be from each other, Mrs. Bradford had learned it was best that way. Our current unit was one of my favorites: the Holocaust. And what was even better, was that Mrs. Bradford, who was a strong believer in getting both sides of the story, decided we've already heard enough of the Jewish point of view, and decided to read books and stories through the Nazi's eyes. All I knew was that it pissed Kyle off and it made me a very happy Neo-Nazi. "Cartman, why don't you start us off today." Mrs. Bradford asked, "In chapter eleven, why do you think the H.J. let that Jew go?" I sighed, I rather disliked that scene. "Well, personally, I think it was because he is a traitorous little chicken-shit."

"How so?" She asked me. "It was his duty as a soldier to protect the Fatherland by destroying the enemy. And since the Nazis believed the Jews were the enemy, for the Hitler Jugen to have let the Jew go, he was essentially betraying his country. I don't think he was feeling any sort of sudden morality, he was simply to squeamish to kill someone. So, in short, he is now a traitor to his country because he was to frightened to kill the enemy during the war." Yeah, that little speech ought to have ruffled his feathers, any moment now… Now, here's where it stops being funny. "I disagree with Cartman. I think the Hitler Youth was starting to feel some degree of sympathy. I mean he was young enough not to have been completely brainwashed by the Nazis." You see, that was exactly the kind of response I was hoping for, but it wasn't Kyle who said it. It had been that idiot, Bradley. There was mostly preps and jocks in this class, so the resulting conversation was pretty shallow and barely within the subject. Mrs. Bradford looked rather disappointed that Kyle and I seemed to have suddenly become shy. In desperation to add some intelligence to the brainless chitter-chatter that was floating around the classroom, she called on Kyle to put his views in. She was probably thinking something along the lines of: _There, now we'll get something worth talking about. _Unfortunately, she was to be disappointed. "I don't know." He responded. Kyle and I were silent for the rest of the class, and poor Mrs. Bradford, for the life of her, could not figure out what was going on. To say the least, I was pretty pissed off. I tore off a strip of binder paper and scribbled angrily: "History class next. Room 810." And dropped the note on Kyle's desk as I left.


	4. Chapter 4

-1

The fact that the English and History classes are both talking about Nazism is not coincidental, the classes are linked. Like Humanities. Oh, and I think Hitler was Christian or Catholic when he was younger, I don't know though. But let's just say for plot reasons, that he was.

Kyle found the class okay; he was only a little later than usual. Like in Mrs. Bradford, Mr. Hess liked to have class discussion, so, unlike Mrs. Bradford, he sat Kyle and I next to each other. We may bicker, but it was about history. Mr. Hess was delighted with the difference in opinion. Kyle sat down beside me, "What the fuck, Cartman?"

"You did that on purpose." I ground out. Kyle looked confused, "Did what on purpose?"

"The… thing… in English. You were supposed to… well, you know!" I said, feeling stupid, was I really about to argue with Kyle for not arguing with me? How pathetic is that? "What Cartman?!" Kyle snapped. "Well, you were supposed to… talk."

"Talk? You want me to talk? Fine, I'll talk!" I didn't like the look Kyle was giving me. The bell rang, and Mr. Hess began to talk, "Okay class, ve are going to talk about the cause of the Holocaust and the reasons vhy the Nazis targeted the Jews." Oh yeah, did I mention Mr. Hess is German? Kyle and I argue about whether or not he is related to Rudolf Hess. Of course Mr. Hess isn't, but I like to piss Jews off. I raised my hand, "Ja, Cartman?"

"Hitler was a religious man when he was younger, maybe he was bitter at the Jews for causing the death of Jesus?" Kyle twitched visibly, and I couldn't help but grin. Kyle raised his hand, "Kyle?"

"I agree with Cartman. Hitler was a radical man, he would of wanted to get revenge for something like that." The class was shocked, no one spoke, but I was not shocked. I was furious. Little bastard _was _doing this on purpose! It was the same thing with everything I said, even if it was downright racist; Kyle would always agree with me. The only reason I got away with the things I said was because Mr. Hess knew I was just trying to get a rise out of Kyle. It's amazing what you can get away with in a redneck town like South Park. So, I finally got what I wanted, a miserable Kyle who has almost no fight left. I never sat through more boring classes.

After that day, nobody heard from Kyle for a week. I didn't even get a call from the Extremely Loud Bitch. I thought he was just pouting about whatever he had up his ass that day, and he'd show up, fine and dandy, at the bus stop or on Stan's doorstep. But I was wrong. Kyle did show up, but he wasn't fine, he wasn't dandy, and he wasn't on Stan's doorstep. He was on mine. "Kahl? What the hell?" He was clearly upset. "Parents… they disowned me. I fought with Stan." Was all he said. His parents disowned him? Why? "So you can't go home?" He shook his head. "And you can't go to Stan's?" Again, he shook his head. I scowled, "And what makes you think I'm just going to welcome you in? In what lifetime? Go to Kenneh's you stupid Jew." I was about to slam the door in his face, when he said something that caught me off guard. "I renounced my faith." I sighed, "Come in." I said. He did so. "Alright, you God damned Jew, what is this about." He opened his mouth. "You still have Jewish blood, so I can still call you Jew." I said, predicting his next words. He scowled at me, and answered my question, "Look, I was thinking about what you said about Jesus, and I tried to get the Synagogue to at least _admit _they had some part in His death, but they are too deep in denial." Wait, he actually listened to me? Well, it wouldn't have been the first time. I could be rather manipulative. "Then," He went on, "They began to shun me. Didn't take them all that long. I swear to God, the Rabbi tried to feed me non-Kosher." I snickered at that, and he became angry, but I motioned for him to go on. "Well, I couldn't be part of a religion that lived in denial and would ostracize one of their own. So, I renounced my faith." I suddenly remembered my original plan, the one that went along with my "Second Holocaust" plan. It could work now. "After that, my parents disowned me."

"And Stan?"

"He didn't like what I was doing, and sided with my parents."

"So, now you're here." He looked uncomfortable, "Yes."

"And not at Kenneh's… why?"

"For the same reason I'm not at Butter's, his parents." I knew he was lying, but I let it slide. "You said you could help me." So I did, "I don't recall."

"Cartman." He said, in an almost pleading voice. "Fine," I said, "but just for tonight." He knew I was lying, but he let it slide.


	5. Chapter 5

-1I woke up the next day confused. Okay, actually, I woke up hungry, but I remembered last night and _then _I was confused. I mean, what the hell was I supposed to do? I was a Neo-Nazi letting a damned Jew live in his home. I walked out to the living room and stood next to the couch where Kyle was sleeping. I stooped down, getting closer to him. "WAKE UP, JEW!" I bellowed in his ear. "AHG!" Kyle yelped, falling off the couch. I laughed as he picked himself off the floor. "Oh very funny Cartman. Now I have a headache. What time is it?" I glanced at the clock, "Six." I answered. "Six! Damn it! I don't have any time to get ready! Why didn't you wake me up earlier?!… Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I was just expecting you to start running around in circles." I said, getting up from my stooped position. "Shut up Cartman."

"What the hell do you have to do that takes you so long? Perm your hair?" Kyle strode past me, elbowing me in the gut as he passed. "Bastard." I choked out, then headed to the kitchen for breakfast.

Turns out, Kyle had a lot of things to do. He was practically running back and forth, checking and re-checking everything. "Kahl, hurry up damn it! We're going to be late!" Kyle grabbed an apple before hustling out the door. "Sorry." He mumbled at me. "Whatever."

Kyle brought his schedule, so he didn't have to follow anybody around. School was pretty normal, except Kyle still wouldn't argue with me. Stupid Kyle. That and Kyle and Stan avoided each other like heartbroken lovers. Stupid Stan and Kyle. I didn't catch the bus home though; I had shopping to do.

"Here, catch." I said, tossing the alarm clock at Kyle's head. Unfortunately, he caught it. "You can pay me back later." I said, "Now you don't have to bother e in the morning," I told him. "It might take me a few weeks to pay you back, my mom blocked my bank account."

"What?" I said, surprised, "Isn't that illegal?" Kyle shook his head. "It won't be illegal until I'm eighteen."

"That sucks." Kyle nodded his head, and then looked at his watch. "I gotta go."

"Where?" He didn't answer, he was too busy rushing around. "Violin lessons." He finally answered me, as he grabbed yet another apple from my fruit bowl. I wonder if that's all he ever eats. No wonder he's so skinny. But he better stop stealing my apples. "Violin lessons? Gay."

"Shut up Cartman." He said as he left. I didn't even know Kyle played the violin. Figure a Jew would play something nerdy like that. Though I never did mind a good classical song once in awhile. I spotted something on the arm of the couch and went over to inspect it. It was a music book: _The One Hundred Melodies of the Violin. _"Kahl must of forgot it." I said to no one. I followed Kyle out the door, but he was too far away to catch up to, or call out after. "Crap. Is that Jew seriously going to make me go follow him all the way to his stupid lessons?" I said. "Doing this on purpose, I swear to you he is." I did indeed have to follow him all the way to the building where he took music. Some fancy, new building. Kyle's such a schmuck. "If I think Kahl's a schmuck, why did I follow him all the way here, just to give his dumb music book? One that they probably have an extra copy of?" Funny, I never did answer those questions.


	6. Chapter 6

-1I'm listening to David Bowie D Blasphemous views not mine.

I caught up to Kyle in his classroom, and tapped on his shoulder to get his attention. "_Cartman?_" He said surprised. "Nope, Santa." I answered sarcastically. I ignored his comment of "Fat enough to be," and handed his book over. "Huh? Hey, thanks!" He said. I rolled my eyes at his enthusiasm. Without warning, he turned suddenly suspicious. "Wait, since when would you follow anyone all the over here, just to bring them something they forgot? Let alone _me_?" I shrugged, "You came to me for help, didn't ya? Now if you'll excuse me, I have a date with that seat over there. I don't know how you can find the energy to play an instrument after that walk."

Kyle wasn't so bad on the violin, I mean, he was no Jascha Heifetz, but he played a mean _La_ _Mañana_. He approached me after music class, "You sucked." I said, and he glared at me. "What did you mean by that comment?"

"I mean you could use some work on your violin skills, Jew."

"Not _that _comment, Cartman. The one about you helping me." I grinned. "Oh, yes, that comment. I told you before I could help you, and you came to me looking for help. I plan to keep my promise." That suspicious look crept back into his eyes, "What do you mean by that?" I started to leave, "Cartman? Cartman?!" I ignored him, he didn't need to know what I had in mind quite yet. And what exactly did I have in mind? Well, you'll have to wait and see.

The much needed weekend finally arrived, and their was only two more weeks until Thanksgiving holidays. I had to begin my plans before then, though, and the weekend was the perfect time to start. "Kahl!" I called. "Do you still believe in God?" I asked, as soon as he entered, "What the fuck, Cartman?" He asked. "Simple question, Jew."

"I don't really know. I'm agnostic I guess." This might be harder than I thought. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. Curious, I guess. I would have been surprised if you still had faith after what you been through."

"And you care?" He said. "No, but I can." I answered. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He snapped. Okay, so I might have overdone it a bit. "It means…" Shit, why the hell did I say that? "Okay, never mind about that last thing, I was being over-dramatic." He sighed. "But that isn't the point. The point is, maybe the reason all that happened to you was because you were Jewish." Kyle bit back a retort that was almost habit now. "Maybe God was trying to turn you to the correct faith, Catholicism."

"…Maybe."

"I think you should give Him another chance. Turn your heart to Jesus. And I can help you." After a moment consideration: "Fine." My face split into a wide smile. Easier than I thought.

Father Max was surprised to hear that the town's little Jewish boy needed Christening, but he was even more surprised when he heard that I was the one who converted him. Nevertheless, he was pleased, and proceeded with the process gleefully and told me, as the one who converted Kyle, I had to teach him the ways of Jesus, before next Sunday's mass. I told Father I intended to. I also reassured him I had not forced Kyle into this, and that my "teaching" would not include shock therapy. Stupid priest.

"You ask too many questions." I said to Kyle, after he brought my religion into question for the hundredth time. "Well, I'm just making sure I'm not getting into something I don't want to."

"Look do want my help or not?"

"I'm just asking if Jesus was literally or figuratively God's son." I groaned, "I don't know, do I look like the pope to you?"

"…Do you think Jesus is an angel?" What? What the hell is wrong with this kid? "God Kahl! I don't know!" He laughed. "Ugh! You're such an ass!" I said.

It was like that for the whole teaching, but I finally got through the general stuff. "That was just the basics. I don't know how Father Maxwell is going to get all the complexities through your thick, Jew skull."

"If anyone has a thick skull, it's you. You're the one who won't even consider my questions, at least I'm thinking about the religion. You're blindly basing your entire life on something that might not even be true, for all you know." Damn him and his stupid… logic.

School wasn't much. Though Kyle still stubbornly refuses to argue with me. At least he stopped agreeing with everything I said. And no, I don't know why I care, I just do. Saturday wasn't worth mentioning either. Kyle and I simply went over mass customs. Now mass, _that _was worth mentioning. At first, it was like any other mass, except a Jew was in attendance. But then people started noticing Kyle. Some of the older Catholics actually got up and left indignantly, which left Kyle flustered. This caused him to forget his prayers and I had to whisper them into his ear when he spoke them. People seemed offended that not only did a Jew have the nerve to enter a Catholic church, but that same Jew would also stumble over prayer. Father Max tried to be supportive, but it didn't help much.

"I hate this." Kyle told me, after we got home after the disastrous mass. "I didn't know they would do that Kahl." I said, only half truthfully. "I'm through with religion. If God even exists, he burns in Hell."

"What do you want, Kahl?" He paused, then, "…Revenge." I grinned. So finally, a plan works. Do you realize how useful it is to have a Jew on your side? They are damn smart. "I can give you revenge." I said, and he nodded.


End file.
